Interrupted
by Mrs Don Draper
Summary: Takes place during episode 3x7, Seven Twenty Three. What if Peggy hadn't left after he told her: "You're good. Get better. Stop asking for things"? Don/Peggy


"You're good. Get better. Stop asking for things."

Those are the words that keep running through Peggy's head as Don screws her into the narrow couch in his office. Her plain, white skirt rucked up to her waist. He has already peeled off her beige pantyhose and her white cotton panties. Other than her underthings and his missing belt, they are still dressed.

She was not quite sure how it had started. She remembers taking more drinks than normal, embarrassed at her boss scolding her as if she were a child. He did not know how difficult it was to be a woman in the workplace. He did not want to cut her slack or give her favors. She felt ashamed to have been so greedy.

But she cannot really concentrate on that right now with her boss's hands groping her, pressing into her body. She wants to tell him that they should stop. To think how Mrs. Draper would feel if she were ever to find out. Peggy almost stills his hand, but when she takes her hands out of his thick, glossy hair to do so, he replaces his fingers with his hard cock, and the words die on her lips.

He pauses for a few beats to let her adjust to him being inside of her, and she feels compelled to look him in the eyes. His pupils have consumed nearly all the brown of his irises. There are beads of sweat on his forehead and his jaw is set as wills himself to keep still just a few seconds longer. She wonders what he thinks and sees as he looks down at her. Does he think she looks beautiful with her lipstick smeared and hair mussed? Does he think of her as a child trying act like a grown up? She cannot say for sure; she honestly does not care at the moment, though she knows that in her bed tonight, as she tries and fails to fall asleep, she will obsess over every detail.

After she reaches up a newly manicured hand to brush an unruly ebony lock of hair out of his face, he begins to thrust. She gasps loudly on the first few, (not) surprised at his strength.

"Am I hurting you?" he asks, followed by some tender kisses behind her jaw, as if easing away any pain he might have caused her.

"I just—mmm—didn't know what to expect," she confesses, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He slows down. She should have known that he would be a considerate companion.

"M-much better," she whispers.

Don holds her, his hands squeezing her shoulders as he gets nearer and nearer to his end. Peggy watches the light coming through his windows begins to dim. The daytime blue is quickly fading to the yellows, oranges, and purples of the early evening. The shadows on the walls from the blinds make fading, oblong shapes. She wonders how long they have been in here together. Except then Don brings a hand down to rub her, wanting her to feel just as good as he does.

And they are so close, Peggy's eyes well as she reaches her tipping point and then—

A knock at the door shocks Don into coming mere seconds sooner than he had wanted. He bites Peggy's shoulder to keep his furious, blissed grunts quiet. She feels him spill inside her with no completion on her end. Don is angry for her as his cock begins to soften. Peggy no longer feels tingly or joyful. Her shoulder hurts badly, and she wonders if he broke the skin.

"Give me a minute!" he yells at the door.

It takes every ounce of his will to pull out and stand up to zipper up his pants. After a moment, she sits up and reaches for her discarded clothes. The words run through her head again: _You're good. Get better. Stop asking for things._ She feels guilty for already dismissing Don's advice. _Stop asking for things._

She smoothes her skirt when Don helps her up off the couch, both of them feeling wholly unsatisfied. They exchange a brief look before Don lets Ken in. He has a great idea for a poster for Kenmore. His eyes sparkle as he explains how he came up with the idea and how he knows _just _the couple to pose for it. He is so pleased with himself, he does not even realize the pink lipstick stains on Don's collar or Peggy's puffy eyes.

Don (un)graciously takes the sketches from his employee before asking him to leave while he looks it over. When the door closes again, an awkward silence settles over them. The mood, the sex, their orgasms have been ruined, to say the least. Peggy knows there is no hope of it ever happening again, and her heart breaks just a little bit.

Her boss walks over to the bar to pour them both a drink. It's a poor consolation, but she knows he is doing it to be kind and gentlemanly. She knocks back the whole thing in two gulps, the glass cool to the touch. Don speaks for the first time since Ken left.

"Peggy, I think—"

"You don't have to say it," she interrupts. "I know how this works. I won't tell anyone. And if I get pregnant again, well…it won't be an issue for either of us."

"Peggy, I was going to say that I think you should go home. You're a smart girl. I know you don't need to be told what to do."

Peggy feels a little better when she hears the double meaning behind his words.

She nods a few times. "Right…"

She grabs her jacket and hides her shaking hands in the folds.

"Goodbye, Don."

"Goodbye, Peggy."

He leans down to kiss her on the cheek before walking her to the door. The gesture says everything that they did not.

_You're good. Get better. Stop asking for things._

She knows to take those words to heart now.


End file.
